


Why Do I Have to Understand You?

by HornedQueenOfHell



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: But he can't, Gen, Hector isn't as naive as Isaac thought, Hector patches him up, Hurt/Comfort, I love the damn dog so much, Internal Conflict, Isaac has an emotion, Isaac passes out, Isaac wants to hate Hector, It bothers him, M/M, Pre-Slash, Scars, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Flagellation, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sharing a Bed, little zombie pupper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 21:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16961367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HornedQueenOfHell/pseuds/HornedQueenOfHell
Summary: A little hurt/comfort patching up job involving a soft necromancer and his edgelord partner





	Why Do I Have to Understand You?

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of three Forgemasters prompts I've been asked to make. The second piece will be modern fluff and the third will be heart wrenching angst.

All was silent in the castle, the only thing that broke the noise in his lab was the sound of the spiked flog raking his back periodically. When he felt free from the days sins he folded it up and set it on his table, without Godbrand it was so much easier to get through his routine. Getting to his feet he decided he should grab some water from the kitchens.

Isaac replaced his simple shift, it would do for a trip to the kitchens, and headed downstairs.

When he got there he found that there was someone already in the kitchen, he was going to turn around and go back to his lab when he heard a voice and a yip.

“Quiet Cesar.” The voice chided softly with a small chuckle. Hector.

Grateful it wasn’t another vampire Isaac completed his journey to the kitchen.

“Up late aren’t you?” Isaac asks as he grabs a jug from the icebox and finds a clean mug.

“Cesar wouldn’t let me sleep until I fed him.” The silverette replied petting the dog who was chewing happily on a bone, small tail wagging. There were still some tiny strings of muscle attached to the bone.

“You can raise monsters from men and yet you chose to revive dead pets.” Isaac scoffed.

“Monsters don’t make for good conversationalists, or bed companions.” Hector scratches the pug’s partially furry head a small smile playing at his lips. It’s this moment that Isaac realizes Hector is in just his pants. 

“You actually want a bed companion?” Isaac is mildly disgusted at the notion, although he does find the silverette’s scars intriguing. Hector seems so soft he almost expected the other forgemasters skin to be just as smooth.

“It is nice on occasion. Of course I- Isaac!” It isn’t until Hector catches him he realizes that not only had he been swaying but he had passed out. 

Hector lands hard on his knees as he catches the other Forgemaster, Cesar is yipping in panic until Hector reaches out to soothe him again. But when he feels wetness on the dogs fur he pulls back horrified to see blood smeared on the dogs head. He looks at his hand which is also smeared with blood, as is the arm under Isaac’s back. 

He shifts Isaac’s body enough to pull at the collar oh the others tunic. When he sees the marks he sighs. He too had had a destructive habit like this once, he’d stopped it a while ago. He lifts Isaac into his arms deciding that leaving his fellow air breather in this undead castle alone and bleeding in the kitchen is a fate worse than death.

“Come along Cesar, you can bring your bone.” He calls softly to the dog as he heads back towards his lab.

Isaac wakes to something soft beneath him. He smells something almost floral but overly sweet, like trying to cover up rot and decay. Incense? His hand skims over the sheets and feels small hairs almost like a... a dog. He was in Hector’s bed. 

He tries to shift to his elbows but a pair of firm hands stop him, “You’re still bleeding, a few of your wounds reopened when I took your shift off. The fabric had dried to the cuts.” Isaac snaps his head around to face Hector,

“What?” He hisses. The silverette is holding a container of something medicinal smelling and a rag stained red.

“Your injuries were quite severe. You lost enough blood to pass out.” Hector pushes on his shoulder again trying to get him to lay back down.

“How did I get here?” He demanded.

“I carried you.” Hector replied sitting by Isaac’s hip, he pours more of the medicine on the rag.

Hector’s words stun him enough that Hector actually manages to get the rag on him. Thin, arms no bigger than twigs, Hector carried him?

“What is that?” he asks instead his hands clenching from the sting.

“A mixture Dracula taught me how to make, when he found me doing something similar to this. It prevents infection and keeps scars from forming.” Hector wipes away more dried blood and cleans the gouges with a gentle touch.

“Similar?” his tone is disbelieving, as are the looks he gives the few scars he sees on the silverette. 

Hector sighs and sets the bottle and rag aside. He unties the wrap holding his pants up and stops Isaac when the other tries to look away.

“Right here.” The silverette wasn’t trying to flash Isaac, something he made sure to check before looking at where Hector was pointing. On the inside of his thighs were rows and rows of tiny, meticulously done little white lines. The closer they were to his knee the more ragged and ugly they were. It was clear where Dracula’s formula had come into play as the lines became smooth and thin, flat (almost invisible) lines of white running almost all the way up his thigh.

After letting Isaac study the marks briefly Hector reties his pants and picks up his supplies to continue helping Isaac.

The dark-skinned forgemaster still finds the gentle touch strange and drinks in the stings of pain from the tincture. Hector sighs at the behavior but doesn’t comment.

When the bleeding has mostly stopped and the dried blood has been cleared away Hector sets the bottle and rag aside. He pulls out a jar with a thick paste and smears that over the cuts, Isaac is grumbling under his breath as Hector hums an old nursery rhyme.

The silverette wipes the remaining paste from his hands and picks up the roll of bandages on his bedside table.

“I suppose it’d be too much of me to ask you to abstain from this act until you are healed wouldn’t it?” He asks as he wraps the bandages over Isaac’s shoulders and back. The other forgemaster remains silent, “I figured as much. Just try not to let it layer like this again, you do Dracula and I no good if you die of blood loss and leave me as the sole forgemaster here.”

“What do you care?” Isaac spits, “You’re just soft, and ignorant!”

Hector remains silent as he ties off the last bandages, Isaac springs from him as soon as those hands falter. 

“Maybe you’re right, maybe I am,” He shrugs as he cleans up his supplies, “All I know is I enjoy being who I am now more than I enjoyed being the person who did this.” He taps his thigh.

Isaac stands and ignores the hands Hector holds out to catch him again, he sways a bit more and realizes he’s very light headed.

“Just get back in the bed.” Hector sighs, “You aren’t strong enough to get back to your lab and I’m going to have to change your bandages again in the morning. It’s big enough for both of us.” 

It’s true Dracula had given them spacious rooms but Isaac would also usually rather gnaw his own arm off than share an intimate space with another human being. Until this war was over he was stuck with the other forgemaster though, it could be worse.

Isaac glared Hector down as he laid back down in the bed. The silverette rolled his eyes as he finished cleaning up. He moved to the other side of the bed and carefully climbed in.

“Sleep well Isaac.” He murmured, Cesar jumped up and curled into the hair at the crook of Hector’s neck. 

Isaac scoffed at them both and rolled away.

He awoke at the first light of dawn and was rather bitter to find that Hector’s ministrations had left him mostly painless that morning. 

The man in question was still asleep, curled onto his side with that stupid dog held to his chest. His silver hair spilled over his cheek and splayed across the blue sheets. 

Isaac wanted to slap him, to make the other man recoil from him. He’d never wanted Hector to understand him! And he’d never wanted to believe that he could ever understand Hector, damn him. Isaac left the bed with the sheets in disarray, he’d cut the shift off of Isaac rendering it useless. He wanted to be angry about that and clenched his fingers into a fist, wanted to drive it through Hector’s cheek. But instead found himself reaching to push the hair off of Hector’s cheek instead.

The second he realized what he did he recoiled. Mentally berating himself and planning on adding extra lashes today just to spite the silverette he stomped away to his own lab leaving the other forgemaster to his sleep.


End file.
